


Perfect

by Facedash



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Mental Anguish, Perfectionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26369410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Facedash/pseuds/Facedash
Summary: Can you escape the prison of your own mind?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Perfect

I wake up before the alarm. It's just the way my brain works. When I have a reason to get up and go, I do. Every time feeling nothing - apathy. I'm neither excited nor against it. Not anymore. 

After staring into nothingness for a while, I sit up. Peering outside I notice the Sun barely rising above the Seattle skyline. _At least the weather is nice or at least seems like it will be_ \- I think to myself, forcing a pathetic smile. Just a little tug on the corners of my mouth. 

_One day it will all change, it must, right?_

My face falls into my palms, and I sigh, deeply. Haunched over like that, I spend a couple of minutes sitting motionless. Every second seems like an eternity. To get out of the trance, I hit myself on the head a couple of times and then I jump out of bed. 

I look around my room and then down at my feet. I steal a glance at my reflection in the mirror, turning away with tears starting to fill up my vision.

"Make us proud, Victoria." 

Mist and warmth, they surround me, they keep me safe. The dread building inside of me leaves me restless. White and cold are the only things I can see ahead. All I can hear are screams; from downstairs, from within my head. "There is no escape, don't even try."

Opening the cabinet I reach for my pills, pop two of them out of the bottle, and then swallow it up with tap water.

I am an artist who knows how to dress and how fashion works. I know my shit. Contrast is the secret if you want people to look. You won't be able to scrape their eyes off of you. No one will truly care - _not even me_ \- but I still need to present the family name in a good light. 

"Our family values should always be your priority. Let it get to your head."

Impressions, it's all about them. 

Time to put the mask on, to play them all.   
_Ruthless and to the point. Beautiful and full of thorns._

Out of habit, I put my makeup on, mindlessly, like a drone. The flower scent - _of a wilting rose_ \- follows, spreading across the room. When I think I'm done, there is always something off. It could be the hair, or my mascara, maybe the collar. _Nothing will escape me, I see it all._

Several touch-ups later and I'm finally done, and ready. "Perfect" - escapes my lips.

My mother barges into my room yelling something about us being late. I don't remember the rest or might just be that I want to forget about it. _Just let it go._ I cower in fear, you can't see it but you can certainly feel it in the air, it's so dense. She slams the door as she leaves. 

Picking up my backpack on the way out, I give myself one last look-over in the mirror. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. 

"One day..."

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I managed to write something.


End file.
